Becoming a Performance: Idealized Identity in Wharton, Wilde, and Bowie

“What started as a performance of a character became a transformation into that character: or, in other words, what started as an ingeniously devised lie might have ended up not being a lie, after all” (Mircea 65). This idea of performance becoming reality is the approach I took in developing a play script for my final project. The script imagines a conversation between three of our course’s major characters: Lily Bart from Edith Wharton’s The House of Mirth, Dorian Gray from Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray, and Ziggy Stardust as a key persona for David Bowie. Each of these characters share a tragic fate, one that results from their inability to cope with or function in their respective societies. Lily cannot marry but she also cannot not marry. Dorian has traded his soul for eternal beauty and thus can no longer feel remorse for his wickedness. Ziggy, the “plastic rockstar” (Mircea) and prophet, was created from the start in order that he might die. 

Constructions of identity, particularly how those are performed, has been a primary focus of our class. Defining oneself in part through socially constructed identity is inevitable for humans, but these three characters develop identities so deeply entwined with societal standards and criticisms that it becomes impossible for them to untangle their true selves (if they ever did exist) from their performances. Thus, they effectively become performers who exist as art forms in perpetual performance, or as Mircea puts it in “Being Ziggy Stardust: A Semiotic Problem”:  “the performer is the performance” (71, emphasis added). However, the performances they are attempting to embody and eventually become are definitionally impossible: the perfect woman, the ageless beauty, and the Messiah rock star. Wagner explains in “The Conventional and the Queer: Lily Bart, An Unlivable Ideal” how Lily epitomizes the ideal feminine woman and consequently: 

The effortlessness with which her feminine facade is created is her decisive undoing, for it is this ease that in the end triggers society’s collective refusal to comprehend her. The facility with which she incorporates herself into the overall illusion of an archetypal femininity–not to mention her exquisite beauty–compel a hyper-visibility, a vision of an ideal … [Lily as] the quintessential woman is implicitly understood to be an impossibility. (120-1)

Throughout The House of Mirth, Lily is continually looked at as an object of desire, commodified and idealized into what those around her wish her to be, but even for those closest to her, “attributing substance to a facade is too difficult” (Wagner 121). For example, during the tableau vivant, Lily relishes in her own beauty even while recognizing her performance as a benefit for someone else: “for the moment it seemed to her that it was for [Selden] only she cared to be beautiful” (Wharton 144). Meanwhile, Selden and Gerty believe themselves to be witnessing Lily’s truest self: “for the first time he seemed to see before him the real Lily Bart, divested of the trivialities of her little world and catching for a moment a note of that eternal harmony of which her beauty was a part” (Wharton 142). Yet, it is impossible for Selden to comprehend Lily as a person rather than an ideal while merely looking at her, a point on which I note Lily’s disappointment in my script. 

Dorian Gray’s ideality is also evident as Basil values him for his beauty and Lord Henry wishes to invest in him as an experiment in indulging Hedonism. Their worship of his beauty convinces him his appearance is the singular value of his identity which adds social value, and Dorian becomes overrun with fear at the loss of beauty with age. Pointing out Dorian’s psychological development under the influence of Basil and Harry, Shiting Lu relates Harry to a father for Dorian and Basil as a mother, both of whom lead Dorian to his mirror double, the portrait. Seeing himself in the mirror, or painting, establishes his perception of himself as an object, and “he regards the beautiful image reflected in the portrait as his real self … Dorian begins to perceive himself in a brand-new way, which corresponds to the process of erasing his ‘original’ self as the self he constructs at this phase is actually the selves of Lord Henry and Basil Hallward” (Lu  92-3). Therefore, similar to Lily, Dorian’s identity becomes ruled by those around him. 

Just as Lily’s performance reflects the faults of New York elites and Dorian’s the downsides of Victorian society, Ziggy Stardust comments on the dangerous culture both fans and rock artists participate in. In comparing Bowie’s story to Ziggy’s, Mircea ponders the “very Wildean dilemma of art imitating life vs. life imitating art [creating] an unrelenting ambivalence tingeing both realms of life and art” (69). This ambivalence, Mircea continues, is reflected in Bowie’s own thoughts on Ziggy: “It was his own personality being unable to cope with the circumstances he found himself in, which is being an almighty prophet-like superstar rocker. He found he didn’t know what to do once he got it” (Bowie 1974 - quoted via 5years.com, 69). Not even Bowie was able to cope with the performance of his character, Ziggy Stardust, as he found himself lost in Ziggy and his audience conflated Bowie and Ziggy as one in the same. Ziggy, representing all the potential faults of rock music in an apocalyptic world, could not survive either.  

The divorce between performance and reality becomes blurred and ultimately lost for Lily, Dorian, and Ziggy: “The actor and the character, the artist and the artwork, fuse so completely that there is virtually no end to the performance, unless the performer [themself] is in one way or another suppressed, which is the only logical end” (Mircea 71). The only way out for each of them, and the only way to finally close the curtain on the performance once it has fully become their identity, is death. Their tragic fates are a result of society’s idealization of them, and their subsequent attempts to perform the role of the ideal erase their true identities. By the end of their stories, their fabricated identities have fused with their realities, making it impossible to separate the two and their identity becomes merely the performance. My script attempts to bring these three characters a sense of peace in realizing the forces outside their control which shaped the actions that led to their collective demise. I take these framing thoughts from my research and translate them to active discoveries these characters experience. In my play script, ghost-like versions of Lily, Dorian, and Ziggy confront their unfortunate ends in order to understand that the way they are seen by others shaped the way they saw themselves. The performance they presented to the world, which society idealized, chewed up, and spit out is ultimately the identity they became. 

As a brief note, I was not aiming in my scriptwriting to mimic either Wharton or Wilde, but I did want to reflect the attitudes of Lily, Dorian, and Ziggy how I creatively imagined their characters would react in this situation. 

Characters: Ziggy Stardust, Lily Bart, Dorian Gray 

The scene opens on our classroom in the Cathedral of Learning. The trio are shocked and stare at each other in confusion. Lily attempts to remain polite and composed, Dorian seems to be on the edge of an outburst of frustration, while Ziggy is happy and carefree, just rolling with the punches.

Ziggy: Well hello there!

Lily: …hello… 

Dorian: Yes, hello. Uh, not to be rude, but who are you exactly?

Ziggy: Name’s Ziggy Stardust, pleasure to meet you. Although I must say, you two have quite the interesting get-up.

Dorian: We have an interesting get-up? I’m puzzled by your wardrobe choice. 

Dorian looks Ziggy up and down, chuckling, one eyebrow raised in slightly sardonic confusion at Ziggy’s striped jumpsuit, shockingly painted face, and electric red boots.

Ziggy: Well, you know, your outfit is certainly old-timey. Say, are you performers as well? 

Lily (interrupting): Pardon me, but I think we have more important things to discuss than our outfits, even if yours (directed to Ziggy) is a little peculiar–although I must say, exceptional. Lily smooths her skirt with her delicate gloved hands, straightening the pleats. Where exactly are we? 

The trio each turn their heads in a wide circle, examining the Cathy classroom. Ziggy’s eyes pause on the sound cart at the front of the room.

Ziggy: I think the better question, darling, is when are we?

Dorian: No, really, I think I must side with the lady on this one. What is this place? Dorian peers out the windows of the classroom, but can’t place his surroundings. He gazes at a stray pigeon perched on the windowsill. 

Lily: Perhaps there’s a way out through that door.

Dorian crosses the room in a few strides and proceeds to try the door handle–to no avail. The trio realize they are trapped. Ziggy takes a seat and stretches his legs out luxuriously across the table in front of him. Lily sits across from him. 

Ziggy: Well, while we’re here, we may as well get to know each other. (To Lily) What’s brought you here, love?
Lily: I–I must confess I’m not sure. The last thing I remember is sinking onto my pillow after…after administering those sleeping drops. Lily’s face lines with worry. But, oh, I-I can’t remember the proper dosage of the drug. I might’ve taken a few too many–I can hardly recall. 

Ziggy: Oh dear, I am sorry to hear that.

Dorian (finally whipping away from the door towards Ziggy and Lily): Aren’t you two concerned that we’re stuck here?
Ziggy: It’s no use, my friend. He pulls out the chair next to him, patting the seat. Come join us. Share your story. 

Dorian reluctantly joins them and sits, albeit still tense.

Ziggy: So what about you, lad? What brings you here? 

Dorian grimaces, his face reflecting a flash of a violent memory: a knife gleaming, the tear of a canvas, and a desperate cry–was that his own? 

Dorian: (stammering, trying to look composed) I–well, I suppose I must be in some sort of purgatory. What exactly are you doing here? 

Ziggy: You see, I was just murdered by my creator.

Both Dorian and Lily swallow uncomfortably. 

Ziggy: Oh, but don’t worry my friends. I’m glad to be here now, wherever “here” may be. (To Lily) Tell me, dear, do you happen to know what that is? Ziggy points to the edge of the table where a laptop rests. 

Lily: No, I’ve never seen anything like–

Lily is interrupted as Dorian rises from his seat and snatches the laptop towards him. He pries it open curiously, turns it to the side, and pushes keys at random. 

Lily: Here, allow me. With a gentle sigh, she reaches out her hand and takes the laptop from him. After a moment of careful study, she manages to turn it on and it opens to an empty Google browser. Her hands pause above the keys before she hesitantly types her name, Lily Bart, into the search bar. Her eyes widen as results flood the screen.

Ziggy: You look simultaneously fascinated and horrified. Please do share what you’ve discovered. 

Lily (incredulously): It’s me! Well, sort of. She turns the computer screen around to reveal the collection of images and paintings of herself. 

Dorian: Wow, what a wealth of photographs. And the likeness is astonishing. What is this strange device?

Lily’s chest swells ever so slightly. She knows her beauty and finds power within it. Dorian’s question goes unanswered.

Ziggy: Well of course I agree, but hang on, there’s more. Ziggy leans forward and begins to scroll through the website results. The trio examines various titles reading: “Justice for Lily Bart!” “Lily Bart: Carefree Flirt or Femme Fatale?” “In Memoriam: New York Socialite’s Tragic Death,” “Lily Bart DEAD: Accident or Overdose?” Dorian leans over Ziggy to open the last one and begins to read.

Dorian: “In a shocking turn of events, former Society Darling, Lily Bart, was found dead this morning, 8:27 am, in a boarding-house room she had been renting. Following the scandal of her affair with George Dorset and her disinheritance by her Aunt Julia Peniston, Bart sank from the public’s graces. She even took up a post at a milliner’s shop (the horror!), and became apparently too overrun with debt and disappointed potential. She passed away in her meager accommodations last night, estimated between 11pm and 2am. Authorities recovered a prescription bottle of sleeping aid drops, but cannot confirm whether Bart’s death was an accident or suicide. What do you think: was it an unfortunate slip of the hand, taking one drop too many, or could Lily simply not live under the weight of all her failures?”
The trio pause in silence. Ziggy reaches out to take Lily’s hand as tears well to her eyes. 

Ziggy: Oh dear, I am sorry, Lily. 

Lily (discreetly wiping her tears with her sleeve): I suppose my life meant very little to the society I was once central to–other than producing the latest piece of gossip, of course. Bertha must be rejoicing. Lily laughs sadly. I can’t believe I cared so much what all those girls thought of me: Bertha, Carry, Judy–even Gerty. They all wanted something from me! And I played right into their social contract. Why couldn’t I see it? 

Dorian (beginning to soften and open up to Ziggy and Lily): I–I think I understand what you mean. It’s just like Harry and Basil–they wanted me to be this work of art and they made me want it too–more than anything. 

Ziggy: What do you mean, friend? Tell us. 

Dorian: I traded my soul with a painting. I don’t know how it happened, but after I met that cruel Harry and after Basil raved of my beauty in the portrait he created of me… I wished I could stay as marvelous and young as the version of me in that painting, while my picture would grow aged. It made me wicked. I–I became obsessed. A look of utter horror spreads over his face. I murdered him. Basil, I–I killed him. And I tore the painting but somehow the knife sunk into me instead! 

Ziggy places his other hand on Dorian’s arm to calm him. 

Dorian: I remember now. I remember feeling my soul re-enter my body; cold and vile. (Dorian shudders involuntarily) But how is it that I'm beautiful again now? I transformed into my old and ugly self when I died.

Lily: I think I might have an answer to that. I died because I couldn’t find a way to live in my world. I lost everything, and I failed to see how I could ever get anything worthwhile back. I simply couldn’t bear to be dingy. I was a fool for that. But I was also just a heartbroken woman, searching for a place in a world that only saw her as a piece of art, an ideal, something that isn’t real or human. And by accepting that vision of the way people saw me–commodified me–I became it. That’s what I am now. I’m a ghost of the real Lily: the version that society molded me into, the one they wanted. I think that might be what’s happened to you too, Dorian.

Dorian: So, you’re saying when Basil painted my portrait and–and Harry gave me that treacherous book, they sculpted me–made me into something less than human? And it made me lose sight of my own humanity too? 

Lily: Yes, Dorian. Sadly, I think that’s it exactly. 

Ziggy: That’s quite an insight, dear friend. I think I might have something to add. 

Lily: Of course, Ziggy. Go ahead. 

Ziggy: I was created by an artist, too (looking at Dorian). I was a persona fashioned by a musician that he could inhabit for a while, but just like in the songs he wrote for me to sing, he killed me. He had enough of me and tossed me aside. (Looking at Lily, still holding the laptop) Do you mind, dear? 

Lily: Not at all. 

Ziggy reaches for the computer and opens a new tab, typing his name just as Lily did. Even more results flood the screen: thousands of photos of Ziggy onstage, Ziggy in eccentric and colorful outfits, Ziggy album covers and art, even Ziggy Barbie. Ziggy toggles from the images to videos and clicks on his song “Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide.” Scrolling through the comments, Dorian leans over once again to read them aloud.
Dorian: “Rest in peace, Ziggy,” “This song saved my life,” “Stunning. He really does look otherworldly… And his talent was out of this world, too…” “Ziggy is eternal,” “When I die I’ll be at your concert in heaven.” 

Lily: Wow Ziggy, you sound so loved. 

Ziggy: But it wasn’t real, was it? I was a plastic rockstar. An alien Messiah invented as a commentary on the state of rock music. I was invented to point out all the ways people make rock stars into gods. And I had to die for Bowie to become a lasting star himself. It was all a… performance. My whole identity.

Dorian: Mine too.

Lily: Mine too. 

Ziggy (sighing): Well, I suppose I was right earlier: we are all performers. 

There’s a beat of sad silence.

Lily: Do you think that’s why we couldn’t survive? Why we’re merely ghosts of ourselves lingering in this strange classroom now? Society made us into ideals, holding us to impossible standards, so there wasn’t a way to live like that.

Dorian: I could’ve lived. If I’d chosen a different way. If I hadn’t been so intent on remaining ageless. If I hadn’t killed the man who loved me. 

Lily: We’ve all done things we regret, Dorian. You were just one lost, young man who searched for purpose in the wrong people. You split your soul without even knowing, and that can do no good. Victorians are notorious for having two personalities, living two lives, and your literal enactment of the Gothic double was merely a representation of everything wrong with your world. [Insertion from the author here: I can’t condone Dorian committing murder, but I do think Lily is more compassionate than me]. It’s just like how I couldn’t force myself to marry a man I didn’t love, but I also couldn’t afford not to marry. So I ended up deserted, disinherited. Even Selden only saw what he wanted to see. No one saw me, understood me. Not even me, while I was alive. 

Ziggy: I can’t seem to tell if I was ever alive. I was created, but I wasn’t born. 

Lily: But we were created too, Ziggy, even though we were born. And it didn’t matter. The world wanted too much from us. They made us into these beings. They took our lives. 

Lily reaches for the laptop once again and finds a picture of herself posing at the tableau vivant. 

Lily: We were all art but we didn’t begin as commodities. That is what we were transformed into. We lost ourselves in the performance, but it isn’t only our fault, is it?

Ziggy: I think you’re right, Lily.

Dorian: Yes, Lily. 

Lily: It wasn’t my fault… 

The trio’s faces are melancholy, but also dignified. They feel a sense of relief and peace in finally understanding their identity as social constructions which were too heavy for them to carry, and which were meant to reflect the problems of society at large, even more than their own faults. 

Ziggy: I don’t want to be a performance anymore. 

Dorian: Yes, I think I might find a life elsewhere. My portrait is gone. I can live life as I’m meant to, wrinkles and back aches and all. 

Lily (smiling): I’m glad you both agree. I can choose to be whoever I want to be now.

And with these final words, the door to the classroom unlocks and swings open. The curtain falls on the scene. 

Works Cited

Booth, Susan E. “‘The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars’—David Bowie (1972). https://www.loc.gov/static/programs/national-recording-preservation-

board/documents/booth_ziggy_stardust.pdf

Bowie, David. “Ziggy Stardust (2012 Remaster).” YouTube, 21 May 2016,

www.youtube.com/watch?v=7KEn0uOEILs. 

“David Bowie Interview 1973.” YouTube, 11 May 2009,

www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ZtHxP4EMV0. 

Lu, Shiting. “Lacanian Interpretation of Dorian Gray’s Self-Identifying under the Influence of

Others.” Language and Semiotic Studies, vol. 7, no. 2, 2021, pp. 86-100.

https://doi.org/10.1515/lass-2021-070202

Mircea, Alina-Ruxandra. “Being Ziggy Stardust: A Semiotic Problem.” Hortus Semioticus, Issue

8, 2021, pp. 63-72.

Wagner, Johanna M. “The Conventional and the Queer: Lily Bart, An Unlivable Ideal.”

SubStance, Vol. 45, No. 1, Issue 139, 2016, pp. 116-139.

Wharton, Edith. The House of Mirth. New American Library.

Wilde, Oscar. The Uncensored Picture of Dorian Gray. Edited by Nicholas Frankel, Belknap

Press of Harvard University Press, 2012.